I was supposed to be blogging at least once a month, and it’s not even like I forgot about it or was too busy – though things are busy – I’m just running on empty a bit at the minute.
On a personal level there are lots of nice things to look forward to and work is going well, but it’s hard to focus on that with all of the terrible things happening in the world at the moment, not least of which is the awful invasion of Ukraine. This isn’t a blog about that, but that said, if you have a few pounds to spare you could do worse than donating it to the Ukraine Crisis Appeal by the British Red Cross.
I won’t dwell on the terrible, though.
South Gare
South Gare is a funny little place, right on the mouth of the Tees, it’s a bit of reclaimed land, a breakwater. I like places that feel like frontier towns or end-of-the-line stops and South Gare certainly fits. With the bones of the former Teesside Steelworks still dominating the skyline (for now), it feels like a land out of time.
One of the ‘must sees’ of South Gare is the fishermen’s huts. All painted green, though in several shades and varying stages of weathering, they’re a cute sight and definitely one of the draws of photographers’ eyes.
It’s a popular area, with plenty of dog walkers, caravanners, walkers and so on, populating the blustery beach, staring out to sea at the wind turbines, or watching a ship come in.
It’s a functional area though too, I mentioned the fishing huts and there are plenty of little boat yards with people busying away making repairs, lobster pots and scrap metal littering the tiny yards.
I love wandering around places like this, and I love documenting them. Places that would once have been incredibly busy with industry and are now hovering in that sort of half-reclaimed, in-between place. When changes come, they’re hard and fast. The huge steelworks with the blast furnace commanding our attention will soon be gone.
‘Good’ I’m sure some will say. ‘It was a bloody eyesore.’ And maybe they’re right, but I don’t think I’ll ever not see the beauty in these rusting, crumbling industrial behemoths, and I’ll miss them when they’re gone.
